Bring Him Home
by detectivetimehunter
Summary: Supernatural AU to the end of series 2. John makes a deal in order to save his best friend. He doesn't know what he has brought upon himself.


**AN: AU to the end of series two. John makes a deal in order to bring his best friend back. He doesn't know what he's brought upon himself.**

**Warnings: language and obvious spoilers for the Reichenbach Fall**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters**

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_"Let him live. If I die, let me die. Let him live. Bring him h__ome." - Bring Him Home (Les Miserables)_

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"Goodbye John." As soon as the words left Sherlock's lips, he was off the roof of Saint Bart's Hospital and was hurtling towards the ground like a bullet.

"Sherlock!" John watched in horror as he saw Sherlock fall past the hospital parking bay. "Sherl-"

John hurried around the corner of the building and was greeted by Sherlock's body lying on the cold, hard pavement. Before he had time to process what was happening, a bike rammed into him sending him sprawling to the floor.

He groaned in pain and pushed himself to his feet. People were already crowding around Sherlock's lifeless body. John stumbled towards his best friend as if in a daze. He started trying to push people out of the way.

"He's my friend. Please."

John collapsed to the ground beside his friend and gripped his wrist in an attempt to feel his pulse; to find out if this was real or not.

The hands grabbing at his pulled the two friends apart. The orderlies lifted Sherlock's body onto a gurney and wheeled him away into the hospital.

"No, God. Please no."

John sat at the bar drinking his fifth vodka shot. It had been two days since Sherlock's funeral. Two days since he had to bury his friend in the ground. He wasn't taking it very well.

The missed calls from Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were clogging up his mobile. He couldn't find it in him to care.

"You lose somebody?" An unfamiliar voice spoke to John.

He span around on his bar stool and was greeted by a beautiful woman. Her skin was smooth and pale. She had deep brown eyes that stared out at him from under thick, dark waves of hair. She grinned revealing bright white teeth which contrasted with her full, red lips that were definitely kissable.

"Sorry what?" John asked her.

"Did you lose somebody?" She asked again, sitting on the bar stool next to John. "I've lost people before so I know the look."

"And who are you, exactly?" John questioned.

"I'm Cassie." She smiled and held out her hand. "And I'm guessing you're John Watson."

John raised his eyebrows and pulled his hand away from her as if she had burnt him. "How the fuck do you know who I am?"

"I know everything about you. I mean, you're sort of famous now aren't you. You and you're hot detective boyfriend."

"Then if you'd read the papers, you'd know that Sherlock is dead." John snapped and stared down at his hands.

"I know. I'm sorry." She apologised. "I was just trying to make conversation."

John nodded and turned back to his drink, knocking it back down his throat. The burn comforted him and the fuzziness in his mind made him numb; it made him forget everything just for a short while.

"I could help you," Cassie spoke. "Help you bring Sherlock back."

"That's a load of bull and you know it," John slurred and refused to look at Cassie.

"It's not," Cassie said and placed her smooth, white hand over John's. "I can bring him back. All I need is you to say you want him and I'll come back in ten years to collect my reward."

"And what is your reward exactly?" John asked curiously.

"Nothing you'll miss." Cassie answered. "Just say the word and I can bring him back for you."

"Fine," John scoffed. "Bring him back for me."

"Of course," Cassie grinned widely.

"Do I need to sign a contract or something?" John asked sarcastically.

"No," Cassie chewed on her bottom lip. "I have a different way of sealing a deal."

With that, she pressed her deep red lips to John's and cupped his face in her hands. As she pulled back, she smiled at him.

"See you in ten years, John."

With that, she disappeared.

"One more miracle Sherlock, for me. Don' .Dead. Please just stop it. Stop this."

As John turned away from Sherlock's grave, he didn't notice the dark silhouette watching him from behind a tree.

"Oh John. What have you done?"

He turned away, pulling the collar of his coat up.

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